The nurse said, ‘Oh, mashed potatoes and mashed vegetables and mince and custard and ice cream and mashed banana. He has a great appetite and will eat anything you give him. You can give him the same food you cook for yourself, and cut down the Cow and Gate powder, he doesn’t need it now. You just put a couple of spoons in his bottle, particularly at night when you put him down to sleep, otherwise give him orange juice. He loves that.’ The nurse danced him up an down on her lap, an he roared laughin. I joined in wit the nurse an wrapped meself round him an kissed an sucked his face. He held on te me hair an squealed wit delight an tried te bite me chin. I was in heaven!
The nun gave us a big bundle a clothes fer the babby an me. She wrapped them in a sheet an tied the bundle in four corners. Me ma carried the babby, an I carried the bundle. I was glad when we arrived at the bus stop. Me arms was achin me from carryin the weight. ‘Where are we goin, Ma? Are we goin home te Benburb Street?’
‘No! We’re not. I gave tha place up. We couldn’t stay there. They’re all animals, livin in tha place!’
‘So where are we goin, Ma?’
‘We’ll have te stay in the hostel.’
‘The Regina Ceoli, Ma?’
‘Yeah!’
I said nothin, an I just looked at the babby. He was dozin off on me ma’s shoulder.
It was gettin dark now an the street lamps had come on. It was cold an drizzlin, an the wind was beginnin te blow. I looked at a woman puttin up her umbrella, she was rushin home, I suppose. An I saw her in me mind, goin inta a room wit a roarin fire an a big round table wit a heavy cloth. An the lamp would be lighted, an she’d take off her coat an rush te the fire te warm her hands, an she’d ask the childre, ‘Do ye’s want a big bowl a stew fer yer tea an some lovely brown bread I made meself, wit lots of good butter?’ An the daddy sits at the fire wit his pipe an wearin his slippers. An afterwards, the daughter sits in his lap at the fire while the boy does his schoolwork at the table. An the mammy sews, an they all listen te the wireless. Tha’s what it’s like in the pictures, anyway. Tha’s what I’ll be like when I grow up. I’ll be respectable!
Every mornin, we have te leave the hostel by nine a.m., an we can’t come back until night. The doors shut at eight p.m., an after tha ye’re locked out! At night when we go up the avenue, men an women are leanin against trees, hidden by the bushes. Me ma tells me not te look. We walk the streets day after day. Me ma carries the babby, an I carry our bundle. Cos me ma won’t leave our clothes in the hostel, cos she says they’ll be robbed. She worries a lot tha people might rob our things. So I have te carry them. Sometimes we can go inta a café an buy a cup a tea. An when they ask us te move on, we buy another cup if we have the money. Today, we have no money, an me ma keeps worryin, cos we’ve no milk fer the babby. ‘What are we goin te do, Martha? I’ve no money an I need te get milk fer the babby. Will we sell our clothes? What are we goin te do?’
I say nothin, an we keep walkin nowhere, lookin fer somethin! I’m thinkin, if we sell the bundle, we’ll have nothin te put on the babby, an everythin will be gone. But the bundle is heavy, an I can’t manage it. I’m tired, an me arms is painin me. I don’t want te sell our clothes, an I don’t want te carry them every day. The babby has te have his milk, an we have te get money. ‘I don’t know, Ma. We’ll sell the clothes!’
‘But what’ll we do, Martha? They’re the good clothes, an we’ll have nothin te put on the babby.’
‘Ma, it’s too heavy fer me te carry.’
‘Wha? I don’t know what I’m goin te do!’ an me ma kept chewin her lip an worryin, an we kept walkin nowhere.
‘Ma! Let’s sell them, we need the money.’ I had an empty feelin in me stomach. We would have nothin left, but we needed the money.
We walked down te Henrietta Street an went down the lane te the rag an bone man. The Jew man threw our bundle up onta the scales an weighed it. ‘One shillin an sixpence,’ he said.
‘Ah, no, Mister! Them’s good clothes. They’re not rags, ye know!’
‘That doesn’t matter, it’s the weight I go by.’
‘But they’re worth more than one an six! They’re the childre’s good clothes, an the babby’s blanket is worth more than tha!’
‘That doesn’t matter te me,’ he said. ‘We only go by the weight.’
I understood. ‘Ma! He’s not bothered about the clothes, they could be rags ...’
‘But they’re not rags!’ she said.